He looked at Emily.
Then Ellen.
Then Lily.
“If hospital says yes.”
Lily nodded.
He put vest back over pink hoodie.
At the door, she said:
“Don’t wear black hoodie.”
“I don’t own black hoodie.”
“You probably do.”
“Fine.”
“Pink.”
Marcus sighed dramatically.
“Pink.”
After he left, Lily stayed quiet.
Ellen expected exhaustion.
Instead:
“Mom?”
Emily moved closer.
“What?”
“Can I see mirror?”
Emily’s heart jumped so violently she almost answered too eagerly.
She looked at Ellen.
Ellen did nothing.
This belonged to Lily.
Emily picked up the plastic mirror.
“Want me to hold it?”
“No.”
She handed it over.
Lily’s fingers trembled.
She did not pull the hood down immediately.
She looked at herself with only one eye visible.
Then slowly pushed the fabric back an inch.
More forehead.
Another inch.
The shaved area appeared.
She stopped breathing.
Emily’s hands clenched in her lap.
Lily pulled a little farther.
The first staples appeared.
Her face crumpled.
Emily almost reached.
Ellen gave the smallest shake of her head.
Wait.
Lily stared.
Tears rolled.
She whispered:
“It’s worse than his.”
No one argued.
Then:
“But his is still there.”
“Yes,” Emily said.
Lily stared another ten seconds.
Then pulled hood forward again.
Mirror down.
“That’s enough.”
Emily exhaled.
“Yes.”
Lily looked at Ellen.
“Did I do good?”
Ellen chose words carefully.
“You did what you wanted to do.”
Lily thought.
Then nodded.
“That’s better.”
Marcus returned Thursday.
Pink hoodie.
This time vest open.
Lily had eaten half her breakfast.
She still refused hallway.
Marcus sat.
“You walk yet?”
“To bathroom.”
“Excellent journey.”
“They want hallway.”
“Terrifying.”
“There are people.”
“Yes.”
“They’ll look.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you do when people look?”
Marcus considered.
“Depends.”
“Sometimes I look back.”
“Sometimes I ignore.”
“Sometimes I say hello.”
“That’s weird.”
“Very.”
Lily picked at blanket.
“Will you walk?”
Ellen looked up.
Marcus said:
“With you?”
Lily nodded.
Marcus did not answer immediately.
“Do you want hood on?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
Emily’s eyes filled.